Gifts
by Liacat
Summary: One shot of England and Seychelles.  :/  Yup.


EnglandxSeychelles

The pen went _scratch-scritch _on the page as England wrote out the days stock market value. He sighed; it was all so dull. He reached out for his tea cup and swore loudly when he discovered it was cold. Grumbling, he sat back in his chair, surveying the damp morning outside.

"Seychelles! Make me some more tea!" he called. "SEYCHELLES! Where the bloody hell is that girl?" He sat waiting for a few moments, then got up himself, furrowing his thick eyebrows. "Seychelles?"

"STUPID THICKBROWS!" he heard before something hit him in the head. He was drenched. "Enjoy your tea, shorty." England gritted his teeth and began wiping off the tea in a dignified yet futile manner. When he looked up, he tried his best to smile but it turned into more of a grimace. The tan girl in front of him stared him down with her brown eyes, challenging him. She folded her arms over her blue dress and then smiled.

"Oops, did I drop the tea on you?" she asked sweetly, and England wanted to grab on of those irritable red ribbons and yank on her hair hard, but he refrained from doing it. Instead he smiled back (or grimaced, depending on how you saw it) and said in the most level voice he could manage, "Thank you, Seychelles. Would you go and get some more clothes for me though? I seem to have soiled these." He demonstrated with a flourish of his hands and Seychelles shrugged.

"Sure, whatever fluffy brows." She skipped out of the room, singing about fish.

"Dammit, she thinks she's won..." England said after watching her skip out. "But I'll make sure she'll get what she deserves for what she did!" and then he laughed. He got out his spell book, flipping through the well thumbed pages before he came to the spell he wanted.

Reciting, he felt the glee of making her feel embarrassed. Almost as embarrassed as he had been. He added the last ingredients, waiting for the spell to take.

After a few moments, there was a loud zap. The whole place shook and England swore loudly again. When the swinging of the room stopped, he sat up, swaying and looking around at his surroundings. Oh bloody hell, oh bloody freaking crap on a stick...

Seychelles was walking right in front of him. Her hair swayed with the breeze that swirled around outside. She was looking wistfully at some ribbons that sat in the window of a store. She was holding England's clothes in one arm, and then a whole bag of tea in the other and even a tea pot with a design that England approved of.

"Odd," he muttered under his breath. "I didn't tell her to get that much stuff... Stupid girl will fall over if she carries anything else."

"They're so pretty!" he heard. He looked up quickly, trying to stay hidden. She was still looking in the window, but her face was lit up now. "Oh, I really like those striped ones! I have enough money to buy them..." she trailed off and she looked forlorn. England frowned, craning to get a closer look at her, trying to see what she was going to do next.

"If I buy them, though, England would get pissed at me and would punish me for buying something so stupid..."

_Ouch... _England thought. _Is that really what other people think of me? I mean, I know I'm kind of touchy..._

"Oh well! I bet I can ask someone for some more ribbons at Christmas! Or should I ask for tuna? Arrrgghh, it's so hard to choose!" Seychelles wandered off, musing over which she would want more. When England was sure she was gone, he walked over and looked down at the ribbons. They weren't very expensive, and they were pretty. He'd buy them just to show how much of a gentleman he was.

"I'd like these ribbons, please." He said, holding them up to the shopkeeper. The clerk looked up.

"Eh, for yourself?"

"Not for myself, you sod." England gritted his teeth. "And what are you, bloody Canadian?"

"Eh-?"

"JUST ACCEPT THE MONEY."

Unbeknownst to England, the shop was owned but Canada, but nobody ever noticed except the Canadians that worked there, and even then they thought it was America.

"If you were going to go out you might as well have bought your own stuff," Seychelles said grumpily. England shrugged, a bit embarrassed. She had come back before him, and had waited for his return. She even made tea, and as soon as England smelled it, he knew it was going to be exquisite. It smelled like raspberry and mint, which normally he would have scoffed at, but the lingering smell of fruit changed his mind. He took a sip, and watched Seychelles fidget. He knew she was waiting for his opinion, and whatever reaction she had would be because of what he said. She was likely to get angry, because he was likely to lie. He smiled.

"It's alright," he said. "But I would have let it steep for longer. And it's a little cold, as well. But besides that, it's passable." He gave a gentleman's smile, flashing his teeth. Seychelles' face fell.

"I did try my hardest," she said softly, biting her lip. England frowned. It wasn't supposed to go like this. After his rather apathetic comment, she was supposed to diligently go and make another cup, cursing his name. Or even pour it on him. That happened once. It wasn't funny then, him sputtering with rage and her triumphant laughter, but it was better then what was happening now.

But where was her spirit that made him so energetic as well? The spirit he wanted to break all along, but whenever he set his mind to it, just couldn't crush her liveliness?

"It's the best tea you've ever made," he added. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide.

"You're lying," she sighed. "It's all you English ever do. You hide your feelings, and lie to make other people feel better. You sit around and drink tea, discussing the weather and make light of things, while out in the world there's people starving and dying." she shook her head. "I'd rather have you yell and scream about how nasty it is then lie to me."

"Yell and scream?" England asked coolly enough, even though inside he was beginning to feel angry. Is that what she thought of him? He frowned further, his thick eyebrows furrowing. "Is that all I do?"

"_Oui, _Eyebrows. And you know what? I'm so very tired of it." he saw her scratch absentmindedly around his collar on her neck. The collar that showed that she was his property.

She got up, her eyes starting to glow with something- joy, a fierce freedom, headiness, or anger, but he couldn't actually be sure.

"I'm not cooking, cleaning or washing your clothes anymore. _Je suis libre! _I am free. _Adieu, _England." She got up-, unclipped her collar, and tossed it at him. England sat there, staring.

"But the tea really was good!" he said. Seychelles smiled.

"Too late," she whispered.

He watched her leave. She got up, and he saw her hips move underneath the loose fabric of her blue dress. Hadn't he seen those hips millions of times before? But now, as he watched them walk from him one last time, he realized something. Those hips were more than just hips, they were Seychelles' hips, and they were now becoming be intriguing. And just when they were becoming intriguing, she was walking away.

"Wait!" he said, getting up. He didn't know why, but he wanted to see those hips. She turned around. Oh, bloody hell, another womenly attribute was facing him that he had never acknowledged before. "Er..." he said.

"_Quoi_?" She asked warily.

He grabbed her wrist. It was small and delicate, but her hands were no longer little girls hands. "Please..." he said, looking anywhere but her face.

"_S'il vous plait...? Quoi" _she questioned, her eyes big. England could feel a flush coming on. She was really leaving. But what could he say? He didn't want another America. What could he do to keep her to him, but not have her hate anymore then she already did?

"Please, at least... Be part of the commonwealth?" he breathed out. She flinched, and England felt his heart plummet past his feet, spinning past into oblivion. She turned away from him, her wrist still in his grasp.

"I accept," she said finally. She turned back and smiled at him. "I'll actually miss making fun of you."

England swallowed hard, feeling his flush rising more. He quickly dropped her hand. "I-I'll miss ordering you around. But it's good we can remain... Er, friends, right?"

"Yes," she said. "That is good." she leaned over and kissed his cheek. He could smell the ocean on her, a smell of salt and breeze and freedom. Freedom from his earlier pirating days. An emotion surged up, breaking past his thoughts.

He reached out for her, and his lips met hers. She stiffened in surprise, her lips unyeilding at first, but England held her so feircely she eventually succumbed.

When he let her go, England stared at her. "Please, be safe," he said hoarsely.

She was still flushed, but she nodded. And then she walked out the door.


End file.
